Ripples
by Zurizip
Summary: A series of ficlets. Some very spoilery. C32: Togusa dreams of strange things. C33: They do not teeter on the edge of any knife. If they fall, it will be because they jump. C34: In which Batou flagrently does what even Zeus would think twice about.
1. No more words

**An explanation: This is all highly spoilerific for Ghost in the Shell: second gig. I'm creating this story as a spot for reflective pieces on the happenings. They will happen in no particular order, at no particular time. Part of it is also that it's really good distraction from nanowrimo while not letting go of the muses.**

**Uh. Yeah.**

_"Damn it, you look just like a kid who's met 'the one'."_

_"Really."_

He knew when to back off. Years of service under her had taught him to read her actions well. It wasn't that she was actively avoiding his questions, or firmly telling him to leave it.

Just… he had never seen that far away look on her face, especially in the midst of such a case. Sure, when they'd been doing things like the Cash-eye bit, she'd space off sometimes – but there was always that underlying danger radiating from her, like a fire.

It wasn't there now; something had distracted it. It made him want to take her by the shoulders and shake her, because he didn't feel quite right without her there. She chewed on her thumb again, another strange action. He'd been watching her closer and closer as the years went by, deliberately convincing himself that it was his duty as a subordinate, and not because he was fascinated by her.

He frowned, realizing this was the longest amount of time he had ever studied her. Under normal circumstances, she would have felt his gaze by now, glanced up and asked him what he wanted.

He would be lying if he said nothing, now.

But she didn't look up, and he had already said his piece.

Batou sighed as quietly as possible. _Who is this guy, Major? _


	2. Knew

**Cool reviewers spurred me on. I don't think it's quite as good as the first one… but I still like it, so up it goes!**

………………………..

It always amazed her how kind he was. She had learned years ago that people who looked at his face often automatically feared him, finding his lack of eyes distressing even in this world of mockeries. Truth be told, he was probably more genuine than some of the ones who only had a few cyber brain enhancements. Certainly, despite the hard angles of his face and the grim determination he held, he was still one of the kindest men she knew.

Most people in section 9 knew about his weakness for dogs. But she hadn't told anyone about the little girl in the church, and his face as she had reached for his hand, begging to hear the words her father would never say. She never told them about how, on the flight home from Berlin, he had held a statue of the golden angel that had been his post for so long in one of his large hands, staring out the window of the plane with his cybernetic eyes. She did not mention in her endless reports the check he had sent to the German association for orphans.

He probably thought – or hoped – that she hadn't noticed.

No, she decided, he had always known that nothing would get past her; and he rarely tried to hide it.

It probably explained why he had never tried to hide his protectiveness for her.

It didn't, however, explain _why _(even if, deep in the part of her ghost she often fancied dead, she knew.)


	3. Ghost

**This is a fairly old drabble, but I think it deserves a place on ff.n It was written as a challenge for a meme on lj, and take place during the first GitS: SAC, in the second to last episode (which had me crying and squeaking in turns)**

She couldn't deny her fear. It was a natural instinct to sense the predator and fear it. But she barely felt it – it was a prickle at the back of her mind, telling her to be wary. Her ghost, whispering to her of danger and men in black suits, out for her life.  
The lack of fear was no surprise – she felt most emotions this way, prickles and brushes at the back of her mind which she could examine from far away, and then decide what action to take. It was what made her such a calm leader; she never showed anything on her exterior - never felt anything on her exterior.  
Thus it was a surprise that when skin met skin as Batou pushed her from the window she needed to pause. Her skin was…tingling. Or at least, her cyber brain was registering the feeling of her skin tingling – but that was completely ludicrous. She had no nerves in her skin any more, fiber optic or real.  
She half-closed her eyes and heard it, her ghost, whispering. Whispering, singing softly. Then something else joined it; whispering back, singing in harmony that was a melody all its own. She didn't have to guess, she knew what, and who, it was.  
His ghost. Him. The small part of him that was still human, whatever that was these days. Their ghosts were aquatinted already, from working for so long together, but now there was more. They touched, clung to each other, shivered and writhed. She caught her breath, and the moment passed.  
But she still felt the alien tingle on her skin – and she knew that he did too.


	4. I Can't be Cool

**I realized that the song 'I Can't Be Cool' was more Batou's than the Major's. This takes place after episode seven in the second gig.**

_i can't be cool tra le catene_

_i can't be cool ad occhi chiusi_

_i can't be cool sotto i resti di un sonno profondo_

_fatto di guerre in nome di dio_

Three hours later, she walked into the section nine hanger. Batou was sitting on the floor, cybernetic eyes locked on the empty plutonium cases that still sat on the floor. No one had had the heart to move them, preferring to leave them like an open wound – if they didn't touch it, perhaps they could forget about it.

Tougusa had gone home. Saito and Bomer were probably out with Ishikawa. Pazu was no doubt at the bar, as usual. Aramaki was doing paperwork, recording the details Gouda's trick, making sure that they would have a memoir of his actions to be used against him later. She should have been doing that, but one of the Tachikomas had mentioned that it must have been a hard job – for Batou was still sitting in the hangers.

She studied him for a moment before he shifted. "I couldn't see," he rumbled, "was there a gun in that guy's hand?"

She didn't answer, and he slammed his hand on the floor. "Damn it! That slimy bastard led us around the whole time! And now we killed a bunch of people who were probably just in a car wreak for nothing!"

A soft sigh, knowing he was right, but she still didn't answer.

"You knew, didn't you?" When she didn't answer, he sighed and rose. "I guess it's just as well I fell for it." He smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I can't be cool."

She didn't bother nodding – he knew she understood. "Come on," she said instead, "the chief is still writing up the report, he'll want your input."

Batou nodded, and followed her up to the offices.

English Translation:

_I can't be cool trapped in chains_

_I can't br cool with eyes closed_

_I can't be cool in the arms of deep sleep,_

_While war is waged in the name of god_


	5. Sacrifices

**This… just came to me. It takes place during the third episode of the Second Gig, and I couldn't help but wonder what the Major had to do to get her hair like that. I'm probably going to do some other things with this episode; fairly ye be warned.**

Batou glanced over at the major from his seat as she came out of the bathroom, still only half dressed from her shower. She sighed. "What?" he rumbled, "Already tired of tracking this guy down?"

She shook her head, water droplets falling from her hair to sprinkle the carpet around her. "It isn't that," she said, sitting down at the desk in the apartment they were sharing for the job, "it's what I have to _do _that I object to, mostly." She picked up a brush and began to run it through her hair, frowning.

"Huh?" Batou said, surprised, "What, suddenly having a guilty conscious after all these years in section nine?

"No," she answered immediately, and rose, leaning over Batou to grab a large bottle of hair gel. She glowered at it for a moment before squeezing a large dollop into her hand and beginning to work it through her hair. "I just really _hate _what this stuff is doing to my hair."

Batou paused, one eyebrow skeptically raised. Then, seeing that she was perfectly serious, he threw back his head and laughed.


	6. Be Human

**Obviously inspired and influenced heavily by 'Be Human' by Yoko Kanno and Scott Matthew. I love that song deeply.**

**PS: Nanowrimo is done, I got to 50k, but updates will not become any more regular. Though once I get my hands on that last episode, there will defiantly be a few fics. …grin…**

"What would you do?"

A pause… "Sleep! I'd sleep! Every night, and I'd have great dreams about flying and fighting, and running…"

"Oh you've got no imagination! _I'd _go on the beach and make a sand castle!"

"You can do that now!"

"Yeah, but I couldn't mess up… and I couldn't go swim in the ocean if I wanted to."

"I'd take a bath! With lots of bubbles!"

"I'd get wrinkles… right where I smiled every day!"

Major Kusinagi sidled up to the corner, listening intently, wondering what the Tachikomas were talking about this time. She'd heard them play the 'what if' game before, but only for cases… like, 'what if the suspect did this?'. But this… this was different.

"I'd have children, and love all of them."

"I'd count every single second… and I'd be happy for all of it."

"But that's not what it's about – it's obvious that humans thrive on controversy. There's even a saying – no pain, no gain."

"You hush with the twentieth century clichés! I'd be popular- lots of friends, staying out too late doing crazy things."

"You already are popular; you're Mr. Batou's favorite."

The major sucked in her breath, understanding washing over her cyberbrain. They were talking about what they would do… if they were _human. _

"Wait – but if it's all about controversy – what would we do if we were in a fight?"

"Curse!"

"Fight back."

"Kiss and reunite."

They grew quiet. "Would we doubt things… like they always seem to do?" One asked.

"Maybe."

"Would we cry?"

"Probably."

"When we die… would we see heaven?"

She turned, frowning to herself as she walked away, deep in thought. They wanted to be more human… thinking that she and Batou and the others were the standard of humans. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone out with friends, had a dream filled sleep… taken a bath. All of the things that she no longer did because of her cyber body had rarely occurred to her… why would it occur to them? Why would they want it? Was the grass really that green? She grunted – full cyborgs like herself walked the line between humanity and AI, she sometimes – not often, but sometimes – wished that _she _was more human. Things that she would lack one day filled her mind… she would never have laugh lines, arthritis… she would never have children.

Certainly, she had never particularly desired to have a child, but that the Tachikoma had wanted them made her wonder…

She shook her head, dispelling images of the picture Togusa had taken of her and Batou with his son for a case. It had been a nice picture, Batou still kept it in his wallet. She felt an odd need to swallow.

"What's up, Major?" As if he had been summoned by her thoughts, Batou's concerned voice startled her back to the halls of section nine.

She glanced up at him, a brief flash of him doting on a child as he did the Tachikoma appearing in her mind. He would make – have made – a good father. "Nothing," she murmured, and turned away, picking up her coat from the chair in the break room and beginning to walk out. "I just…," she paused.

"Just?"

She sighed, "Wanted a bath." And with a wave, she walked out the door.


	7. Watch

**Wow. Ok, that's all I've got to say. Pretty large spoilers.**

It was their first quiet moment since the whole mess had started. Aramaki had put them all at a zen temple, telling them to get some rest and gather their thoughts, so here they were.

Batou watched the Major from the back of a room, noting how she stood, her breathing pattern, it was all just second nature now. She wasn't quite herself these days, her shoulders just a bit hunched…tired. Well, he could understand that. He wasn't himself either. They had taken a hard loss – every Tachikoma sacrificed, Proto suffering mild cyber brain damage from his extended dive into the net unprotected, Kuze killed under their noses…

"Batou," the major said without turning around, "Why do you watch me like that?"

He shrugged, padding up to stand beside her in front of the shrine. "It's part of my job."

She smirked. "That's the second time you've come to get me when you were supposed to be doing something else, you know." She said, and he knew she was referring to finding her buried in the rubble weeks ago. "Isn't following orders part of your job too?"

"Some things are more important," he said without hesitation.

"Batou…" she trailed off. Then she shook herself, standing a little straighter. "Thank you," she murmured, and walked off.

He watched her go, something in him longing to make her understand how far he would go for her. But instead he turned back to the shrine, bowed, and went the other way. He would wait. Just as he always had.


	8. Gone

**I love them and miss them and… … … :cries large crocodile tears:hiccup: spoilers…**

They were green, military green, and bigger than the Tachikomas had been; bulky. They looked practically clumsy compared to the sleek blue Tachikomas that they remembered. One stepped forward, "Uchikoma, number 2501, orders." The voice it used was robotic – not alive.

All of section nine stared for a moment, stunned into silence as the gravity of the Tachikoma's loss sunk in. The major's voice broke the silence, quietly, sadly saying, "Stand down."

No giggle. No instant chatter.

They were really gone.


	9. Forgetfulness is good for Blackmail

**This came to me when Togusa mentioned being in American Comic Book getups. I tried to imagine Batou's… and came up with this. I _really _like the image, but I love Batou as it is. Garbing him just makes everything better. .**

"All right, I'm diving. Batou, come with and back me up."

"Right," Batou said, sliding into a dive seat. "Ready?"

"Always," Motoko replied, and they both made the cyber-jump.

Materialization was slow, and when the major looked over to her partner, she saw why. "You look… interesting," she said, successfully keeping a straight face.

Batou blinked, an action that was suddenly possible due to his personified data. For all intents and purposes, he looked very similar to how he usually was. The only real difference in body structure was his eyes… for one thing, he had them. His hair was also a dark, rich brown instead of the usual silver, but it was still in its signature low ponytail. His dress though, was in an entirely different ball park. "I look like some… medival knight…" Batou said, plucking at the billowing white shirt and shifting his booted feet.

"Rennasaince, actually," the major replied, eyeing Batou. He was uncomfortably aware that this could be used for blackmail later as she smirked, "and I don't think you're a knight, thank goodness."

"Huh?"

She gave him a cat's smile, "If you were knight, we wouldn't be able to see anything under all the armor."

He glanced down and got the joke – the shirt had a v-neck split most of the way down his chest. Glowering up at her, an action she found far more amusing when he had eyes, he moved towards their target. "Come on," he said, "let's get this over with."

Motoko followed him, covering a grin as he muttered about forgetting to turn off his personified data.


	10. Xmas Trivia

**I just wrote this as I went along… but it turned out pretty cute. Consider this your happy holidays present – thus the theme. It takes place while the Tachikomas are still fairly young, so probably middle of the first season or so.

* * *

**

"Mr. Batou! Mr. Batou! Could you clear something up for us?"

Batou turned to regard his Tachikoma, confusion etched in his features. "Sure," he said, "I'll try..."

"Ok! You see, we were discussing Christmas… is it true that the whole holiday is based on someone being born?"

Batou cocked his head, "Well, yeah. Christ was born – base of the word for the holiday."

"Me next!" cried one of the other Tachikomas, and pushed to the front, "What about Santa Claus?" it asked eagerly, "Who's he supposed to be?"

"Er… I think he comes from Santa Klaus, in Germany or Norway or something like that," the cyborg said, scratching his head, "came down the chimney and left presents in shoes."

"What about Yule and Solstice? Doesn't that happen at the same time?"

Batou shrugged, "I dunno, I always thought so…"

"Do people really walk around and burst into various songs?" yet another think tank asked. "Like… 'We Wish You and Merry Christmas' and 'Silent Night'?"

"Gees, I don't know, guys. They probably do it somewhere – kooky traditions have a tendancy to stick around."

"What about all these plants that have meaning? We keep finding stuff about a Yule log… a Christmas tree… Mistletoe-," the AI unit flailed in frustration, "What is that anyway? Some kind of weapon?"

Another unit's eye socket whirred; Batou recognized its voice as the one that was always reading. "No, no, it's a kind of plant all right, there's a 't' in it."

"Well, I can tell you about Mistletoe," Batou said, and the room immediately fell to dead silence. "It's a tradition that if a household hangs fresh mistletoe once a year, it's good luck. And during the winter, if someone walks under it, they can't move until someone gives them a kiss."

"Wow, that's gotta a really strong restraining beam…"

When Motoko entered section nine that morning, she was most surprised to find Batou doubled up, trying not to choke on his own laughter.

* * *

**PS – I know a lot of my facts are a bit off or skewed, but I figured Batou wasn't the type to pay attention to that kind of thing, so I didn't bother with research, or purposely let them be off. **

**Cheers!**


	11. The Trouble with Dreaming

He knew what a touch felt like, though he couldn't remember having actual skin anymore. But despite that, he could still feel her lips on his; cool and dry, but not chapped. Her hands were curled against his shoulders, torso and chest pushed against him where his arm pulled her closer. He could just register one of his hands in her hair, the wrist brushing the softer skin on her neck; something the makers had done for appearance no doubt.

He didn't think he had anything in his cybernetics that would manifest butterflies, or lightheadedness, but that didn't seem to matter. Something was giving him both feelings, like flying, or warm fragrant rain… he abruptly realized that this was the first time he had ever felt human since waking up in a full cyber body - years ago.

She sighed into his mouth, breath mingling with his, her eyes closed peacefully as their kiss slowly broke, faces still lingering close as if unwilling to give up the proximity. A moment later, her eyes slid open, violet irises meeting his implants squarely, and her voice quietly said his name.

He sat up in bed, gasping. Staring at the hands that just a moment ago he would have sworn were holding her, he cursed.

He was a cyborg. Cyborgs did not dream… at least, not according to the platonic ideal.

Well, he thought, fuck the platonic ideal. Obviously, he had just had a dream that was straight out of the books.

As he lay back down, trying to settle enough to return to the rejuvenation cycle his body needed after a week without, his mind immediately returned to memories of an experience he had never had. He sighed. The dream wasn't the problem, so far as he was concerned. It was the waking up.

**It's the fault of the Christmas drabble (which I'll post on saturday or something). An idea used in most every fandom at least once, I'd imagine, and partially inspired by reading the prologue of the book 'After the Long Goodbye' (which is a prelude to the movie 'GitS: Innocence')**


	12. Merry Christmas

**Ah holiday spirit. Ah, holiday muses. I wanted to do a fun one, and a not-so-fun one… and I got both plus a few. Yay bombardment of fanfiction!**

It was Christmas Eve and, as usual, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He was still at work, surfing the net to keep himself busy. That was really the best thing to do – just focus on something else until the days that reminded him that he lacked any blood relatives, anyone to spend Christmas with, had passed. Then it would be New Years; much easier to find something to do with friends then. But Christmas was a time for family.

A year ago, he had spent Christmas Eve with the Tachikomas, letting them ask him as many questions as they could think of, and he could answer (wrongly, he rather suspected) until his circuits whined for a break and nourishment. He supposed that they could have been a form of family, but the AI units were gone now, replaced by hulking green tanks that had no sense of curiosity… no sense of self.

He sighed and lifted the visualization helmet up, unhooking the computer from his ports and then wandering into the break room.

He was surprised to find that he was not the only one. Sitting at one of the chairs, nursing a cup of tea that was rapidly losing steam, was the major. She was clad in a clinging dress the color of summer grass, a split up the side revealing tasteful and functional black heels. Batou knew that she and Aramaki had been at a holiday party that night, an affair put on by the government. They had needed the representation. He knew it couldn't be past eleven yet, so why was she here?

"I got sick of the formalities," she said softly before he could ask, "and I figured this was the one night I could just leave."

He grunted his understanding and silently fixed himself some coffee, making the Major one as well. Sugar for him, cream for her. She accepted the offered cup with a serious nod, wrapping her hands around it as if the warmth it gave really mattered.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, sometimes sipping at their drinks but neither talking. Batou glanced at her, wondering why she had chosen to come here rather than just going home. Before he knew it, he had asked her.

She smiled slightly, eyes still trained on her drink. "I don't know. I suppose I just wanted something familiar."

Some_one _familiar, a voice in the back of his mind said quietly. He didn't say anything, and they settled back into silence. It had been this way between them for a long time, before the Laughing man, before Kuze. Sometimes he wondered whether the silence they often shared together meant no words needed to be said, or there was too much to say.

He always came to the conclusion that it was a mix of both.

There was a beep from the wall clock, and he realized that they had spent an hour simply sitting – it was midnight. The Major gracefully rose from her chair, leaving her cup on the counter. "I have to go and pick up the Chief," she said, "he'll be leaving soon."

He nodded, not wanting her to leave but realizing that she had to, and turned back to the window, staring out onto the streets far below. She moved, and suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking, without looking up, he covered it with his, feeling her long fingers twitch slightly into his shirt.

"Merry Christmas, Batou," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he replied, "you too."

The sound of her shoes on the hallway floors echoed, and the memory of her hand remained, like a ghost, until he finally rose and went home.


	13. Final Verdict

**This one is much more low-key than I usually write, but I really kinda like it. I have a soft spot for Togusa (he was the reason I ventured into GitS fandom writing! Awww!) and I wanted to write a nice, at home conversation. **

"I hope I didn't keep you too long, I needed to ask the Chief something."

"No, no, it's alright, Miss Kusinagi and Mr. Batou kept me company."

Togusa eyed his wife, trying to gauge whether she was trying to make him feel better. It had been the first time the team had actually met his wife, and he hadn't been sure how it would go in the best of circumstances – much less once he was taken out of the picture.

"They're… interesting," she said airily, wiping off a plate and placing it on the drying rack.

"Interesting?"

She sighed, smiling at the nervous question in her voice. "I liked them," she said bluntly for his benefit. "Pazu and Saito are a little… stand offish, but Ishikawa and the Chief are very nice."

"And Batou, the Major?"

She wiped off another dish, face thoughtful. "They finished each other's thoughts at least twice while I was talking to them. Once he did it, then she did it."

"They've been working together long enough, probably know each other better than anyone else," Togusa said off handedly.

She smiled to herself. "Well, that explains more than it doesn't."

"Huh?"

She placed the last of the dishes on the rack and walked over to him, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Nothing. Your coworkers are lovely people. They don't have wives to gossip with like the force did, but I think I'll get over it."

Breathing a sigh of relief, he caught her hand and planted a kiss on the still-damp skin. "I'm glad you approve. You've always had a better eye for character than I did."

"Funny," she said, eyes twinkling, "and who's the cop-turned-international-counterterrorist?"

He chuckled, standing up and kissing her. "You know what I mean. Come on, let's go to bed, I'm beat."

**And for once, I'm going to say it, because reviews would make a most excellent Christmas present. Especially if you haven't reviewed before. I swear, I don't bite unless asked!**


	14. Residual

**If you haven't seen the second gig - this won't make a whole lot of sense. But it's set in between episodes 17 and 18. As a note - I am of the opinion that, in the SAC at least, dreaming and such is possible as long as a ghost is present. **

There was the smell of smoke, and alarms. The airplane shuddered, air masks dropping from above – but they only added to the noise of screams and prayers. It wasn't the air that would kill them, it was the fall – long, tortuous and mind boggling. She curled up in the seat – urged on by a stewardess, tears of sheer terror dripping from her face and into the darkness. Her ears were ringing; she reached for the boy beside her, squeezing her eyes shut…

And opened them to a cheerful stewardess offering her a drink. She blinked, the memory still like a bitter taste in her mouth, and sat up. "Water, please," she murmured, and then settled back into her seat as the AI gave her the drink and moved on.

Every few years, she forgot her self imposed rule not to sleep on airplanes, and invariably, she was forcibly reminded why she had made the rule in the first place. She sighed, casting about for something else to think on. Well, there was always the puzzle of her destination. Why Berlin?


	15. Crane

**The ending of the second season really kills me. :sigh: There is a tentative plan for a second drabble to be attached to this one. **

Her feet hit the pavement hard, the cement cracking and flaking around her feet as people whipped around to face the sound. She ignored their shouts and attempts to stop her, dashing to the police van where he was supposedly being held in protective custody.

Three men advanced to stop her, she stopped just short of the van doors, breathing a little hard.

"Your name and station mamm, we can't let you see him!"

She snarled, "I'm with Public security Section Nine – has anyone else seen him!"

The men paused, glancing at each other. "One of the American ambassadors demanded an interrogation… he left five minutes ago…"

Involuntarily, she gasped, and knowing she was too late, she lowered her gun. "Let me see him," she said lowly.

"Do you have-," one of the men began to ask, but his partner held up a hand, shaking his head to silence the man. He went to the van, unlocking it and nodding for her to go in. She stepped in, and found nothing more and nothing less than she had expected.

Kuze lay motionless on the floor of the truck, eyes peacefully closed. Calm, she knelt by his side, checking for a pulse more from habit than hope. Her hand paused on his face, the face that inspired and led a revolution in Dejima, shook her to the core.

No… that hadn't been his face. Her eyes settled on the crane just short of his outstretched hand. Delicately, she reached over and took it between two fingers. He had never stopped folding cranes for her, even when she had left him so abruptly in their youth. In a way, she had never stopped trying to fold for him, always single mindedly reaching for better control of her body, her emotions, information… for better control. But for once, control had escaped her grasp, and the irony that it had concerned him again did not escape her.

For a moment, she considered tucking the crane in with him before she let them know that he was dead, a symbol of his life to follow him into death. But she knew they would perform an autopsy and they would never think to keep it with him.

He hadn't meant to keep it anyway. Holding the perfectly folded paper to her heart, she bowed her head. "I'm sorry… Kuze," she whispered.


	16. Let Go

**To follow 'Crane' by a few months.**

She was sitting on a railing, a hand holding on and one leg extended for constant contact with the cold metal, her weight constantly shifting to keep balance in the wind. And even though she never looked up, he knew she was well aware of his presence. She stared intensely at her hand, where her fingers lightly held a well worn paper crane.

"Do you think about what might have been, Batou?"

He shrugged, hands in his pocket. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's better to make a decision not to."

"What do you do when you do think about it?"

"Grab a beer and turn off my alcohol processing," he said, walking over and leaning on the rail behind her. There was a pause, her hand beside his elbow, head bowed; patiently waiting. He sighed. "I think until I've reached a conclusion."

"How often does that happen?" she asked.

"Not often," he admitted. "There're a few things… I don't think I'll ever reach a conclusion on." He glanced over, finding her still gazing at the crane face gentle and somewhat sad. "Sometimes," he said quietly, cautiously, "I just have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change the past."

She half-turned to look at him, giving him a searching stare before looking out on the cityscape, half smiling. "You're right," she murmured, and stood up, uncurling the fingers that trapped the folded paper in her hands to set it free to the winds.

Together, they watched the wrinkled, white, bird flutter away until it disappeared into the afternoon breeze.

**I like these two. **


	17. Inseparable

**Wow. I really like how this turned out! Thanks to Bloo-96 for the slight inspiration (in the form of 'I miss writing the tachikomas. I think I'll do a drabble!')**

**Hm. This is set loosely in the second gig, after Batou's little to-do with Kuze (ow).**

"Major! Major! You're back!"

"Is Mr. Batou all right?"

"We heard he was in a fight!"

"Did he win? Will he be back soon?"

Motoko sighed, waiting for the onslaught of questions to die down before addressing her AI subordinates. Finally, the seven Tachikomas that had been left at section nine quieted enough for her voice to be heard. "He'll be fine, he just had to go to the doctor."

"But why!"

"Yeah! Don't leave us out just because we weren't there!"

Rolling her eyes from across the hanger, the major turned back to face them. "Kuze took out his leg and damaged his shoulder," she said, only a fraction of the exasperation she actually felt bleeding into her voice, "but it's just a matter of replacing the parts."

There was a collective squawk among the think tanks, arms waving in distress at the plight of their chosen idol. "Just replacing parts!" one squealed, "but even we feel a little weird when our parts get changed out, and they're perfect copies! What happens with something as specialized as a limb!"

"Yeah! Doesn't the ghost spread to fill the body, which makes one's limbs irreplaceable?" one asked.

Another turned, rotating its claw and eye turret as if in thought. "Well, that depends on whether one believes the body and soul are inseparable. If one does, then yes, the loss of a limb could result in a partial loss of the ghost…"

"Hey!" another chimed in, "maybe that's part of phantom limb syndrome! Even people who get cyberized prosthetic limbs still feel the loss! Maybe they're feeling the partial loss of the ghost as well as the limb!"

"Well, that would be plausible, I suppose," the thinker replied, nodding, "but for people such as Mr. Batou, who's ghosts are already liberated of their body, it shouldn't be the same."

"But doesn't that disprove that theory of a soul being inseparable from the body?"

"Well, yes. I guess it does…" with a roll of it's 'eye' the Tachikoma crossed it's arms, appearing to be in deep thought.

"Hey… where'd the major go?" one asked after a moment of collective contemplation.

The uproar began again, all of them wondering when she had left and at the same time worrying over Batou's state.

Once in the elevator, Motoko leaned against the white walls, trying very hard not to think of what the Tachikoma's had thought of. Despite her cool demeanor towards them, and occasional slight fondness, she sometimes hated it when they became fixated on an idea. Their way of looking at the world was totally different than hers; ghostless AIs, curious of the world that they had been… born… into.

At times, it did seem like they were children; very intelligent children. And just as children seemed to have the uncanny ability to point of the most obvious of truths, sometimes they hit upon philosophical ideas that haunted her, much as she hated to admit it, even to herself.

She knew that her soul was impervious to molding and shaping by outside sources; having spent time as a mere entity in cyberspace. As far as she could tell, she was still herself from body change to body change. But if the Tachikoma's line of thinking had been correct, and the soul _was_ inseparable from the body… then that small, small part of her mind that constantly whined that she was lacking something… was right.

She was missing a piece of her ghost.

The elevator stopped, and she got off quickly, leaving the thoughts behind the closing doors as she went to meet Aramaki in his office.

**Reviewsappreciated. Have a good weekend!**


	18. Education

**One of my roommates watches soap operas. I sat down and watched part of _Passions _with her, and this is what came of it. **

For some inane reason, there was a TV monitor in the hanger, tuned in to an ancient American soap opera channel. Even a moment after walking in, all Motoko could do was stare in utter confusion. "What's going on here?" she finally demanded, turning to the nearest Tachikoma.

"Oh! Major! We were just so bored that we decided to route a TV channel into one of the monitors and watch it." It leaned in, as if letting her in on a large secret, electronic voice at a stage whisper. "We heard that some people are obsessed with these tv programs, but I just don't get it."

"Shh!" another one said, waving its claw in absent annoyance, "Jeanie is admitting her love for Brad- finally!"

"Haven't we been through this already?" one sighed in boredom.

"No, no! That was Brad and Nadia, last episode!"

The major crossed her arms, fixing the blue think tanks with a knowing glare. "Just how many of these have you watched today?" she asked suspiciously.

Batou's Tachikoma turned back to her, having gone back to the program after being shushed, and clicked it's claws in the tank's version of shame. "Well… we got the connection going sometime around oh-three-hundred hours… and it's eleven-hundred now… so eight hours worth."

Before she had a chance to voice her slight surprise and considerably less slight annoyance, the doors opened and Batou walked in with Togusa. As soon as they saw the monitor; now featuring 'Jeanie' and 'Brad' passionately kissing; they stopped dead.

Batou gave the major a thoroughly confused look. "Decided to take up American soap operas, Major?" he said, and grinned, "Never figured you for the type."

"Don't forget, Batou, I can still hack your brain in less than five seconds," the major replied flatly, and nodded to the Tachikomas- all still focused on the screen. "It's them."

"Them?" Togusa asked, and scratched his head, "my wife likes old soap operas… this one is from the turn of the century, but why would they like it?"

Batou and Motoko glanced at each other, and simultaneously looked away, Batou covering a grin and the major looking as if she were suppressing one of her own. Before Batou could make a comment though, the high pitched voice of one of the think tanks stood out against the dramatic background music of the show. "Hey! What the heck are they doing?"

The three members of section nine turned around to see more of Brad than any of them had ever cared to. "I think Togusa can handle this one," Motoko said with a straight face, and began to walk out.

"He is the resident expert after all," Batou quipped, clapping Togusa on the back hard enough to pitch him forward, and then following the Major.

Togusa straightened, looking rather dumbfounded. "You mean nobody programmed that in before?" he asked incredulously.

Motoko glanced back, giving the human a cat's smile, "Why would a combat tank need sex ed?" she asked.

"Have fun!" Batou said jovially, waving as he and the major walked out of the hanger, and the doors snapped shut behind them, leaving the natural man nine curious AI units and a touchy subject matter to contend with.

**Enjoy torturing Togusa? Me? Never! Yes, the last line was an intended pun :-p**


	19. Ocean

**Well, I don't think it's as strong as some of them have been, but I really like it, and I don't believe in wasting a drabble (I write em in less then ten and it takes ya less than two to read em. If it ain't spectacular, who cares?)**

**Anyway, onward and forward.**

"Are you a cyborg?"

The question was blunt and surprising, and when she looked around, the only person that could have asked it was an older woman sitting beside her on the subway. For a moment, Motoko seriously considered ignoring the question, but before she could stop it, the words "Yes, I am," had slipped from her mouth.

"Why?"

She gave the woman an annoyed glance, but again her mouth acted without the consent of her mind. "A plane crash when I was younger; it was full cybernetics or death."

"Why did you choose such an unnatural life beside natural death?"

Motoko sighed. "I didn't have a choice," she said quietly.

"I see. Then will you remain immortal the rest of your days?"

This time, Motoko smirked. "Could anyone really be immortal? The body is not the only thing that decays as time goes on. Eventually, I will die."

The woman hummed for a moment, "For your sake," she finally said, "I hope so. There is more to this world than the island of mortal life; one day we must all ask and answer the question 'where does this ocean go?'"

Motoko looked down to see a yen note being offered to her from the woman's shriveled hands. "Here," she said, "to help you pay to keep up that body of yours; may it serve you better than this flesh and blood that I carry."

"No, thank you," she murmured, looking out the window as the train slowed and Aramaki came into view, "I have a sponsor."

She exited quickly, missing the old woman's gentle smile.

**Semi-inspired by the song 'Where Does This Ocean Go?' on the first OST. It's my favorite, and the title is inscribed on my iPod (nerd? Me? NEVAR!).**


	20. Maybe Not

**I like Kayabuki, and the next long thing I write (when I have time) is going to involve her more. And so, for practice, here's a drabble about her. Hee.**

She had nothing against Prime Minister Kayabuki. In fact, despite their differences in morals and goals, Motoko was rather fond of her. As the first female prime minister of Japan, she was holding her own even against the male dominated genre of politics.

Maybe that was why, secretly, Motoko rooted for her. She knew all about trying to succeed in a line of work where you had a bit of trouble being respected. Kayabuki's job was probably even harder than hers – while she could use her body, her wits, her physical strength, and her diplomacy together or separately, Yoko had only her diplomacy and contacts to use.

There was also the fact that Aramaki liked her, and he was generally a good judge of character. Despite their constant professional air, she could distinctly tell that they shared a bond of some sort, though for the life of her she could remember a time they could have constructed this. She smirked inwardly during a meeting with the two of them to discuss section nine's new budget further. Late thirties to early fifties wasn't that large an age gap. Maybe she should mention it sometime.

Then again, she thought as she tried to imagine the conversation, maybe not.

**PS: Twenty Chapters and 40 reviews! We're also approaching 5,000 hits! Thank you guys so much for your support! I'll be putting up a 5,000 hit drabble – cause it's super special and I figure it's a good way to thank you all; if you have a request for pairing/situation/prompt, feel free to leave it in the reviews or PM me.**

**Again, thank you all so much, this is really cool to me.**


	21. Don't Care

**Typical thinking drabble. I love you, Batou! (:fangirls:)**

When he thought about it objectively, he knew it wouldn't work. They worked too closely, too often; he was her subordinate (though he rather suspected that the relationship would work the same way…and the thought did not displease him in the least.)

When he imagined being able to touch her, tell her that he would follow her anywhere if she would but let him…

He sighed in frustrated bemusement. She was always alone though; the proof that it was lonely at the top. Sure, he could keep up with her, but that was all. Even if he could have surpassed her at some point, would he want to? It was why he was so hopelessly, desperately in love with her. No one, man or woman, had ever made him strive to be someone better than himself; had ever challenged him so.

He loved her deeply, valued her more than his life. In the end, he knew it was one-sided.

He didn't care.

**And haha, no, I don't share that opinion of one sidedness, damnit! I don't care if she goes off and has kids with some rock star - B/M is OTP! (:cough: Zuri, your fangirliness is showing...)**


	22. Breaking up is hard to do

**Totally just hit me that Motoko is technically listed as dead while the second season is going on. Duh… So, I did a little drabble on Kurotan. Cause she's cute.**

**PS: Small warning on implied stuff… but if you're watching GitS you should be over it by now.

* * *

**

"Motoko! You're home!"

A pause. "Hi, Kurotan. It's been a long time; how are you?"

"I'm… um." On the phone, Motoko raised an eyebrow. The pediactric nurse sounded a little hesitant now that she was actually speaking. "Actually – Motoko, could we… could we just meet for coffee or something? I haven't seen you in forever and I want to talk… to you."

"Sure," she replied, not exactly confused or surprised. "When?"

"You came! I almost expected you not to show!"

"It's my day off," she murmured, noting that Kurotan had stood up but not bounded over to hug her.

"I see…" there was a long pause, Motoko giving the coffee in her place a questioning look. "I ordered your coffee with mine," the other girl offered.

"Kurotan," Motoko finally said, "what's up? Problem at work? Room mate being difficult?"

The nurse bit her lip, nervously fiddling with her shirt ties. "No, no, nothing like that… well, sort of." She sighed. "Motoko, I'm moving. I met this girl at the club, you know, the one we went to when we first started dating… but she's at the university and graduating… she wants to go to Osaka for a job and I can't…" she bit her lip, as if afraid that too much had come out at once. When Motoko said nothing, "I don't want to give her up. There's an opening at the hospital over there… and I took it last week." She gave her friend a look of desperate hope – wanting her to understand.

"I was wondering when you would get out of here," Motoko finally said, one finger trailing, "you always talked about it."

Kurotan let out a breath she hadn't quite known she was holding. "Yeah. Are you sure you're all right with it? I felt a little like I was going behind your back… there was just never time to mention it."

Motoko shrugged. "I wasn't there. How could I expect you to wait for something you weren't even sure was coming back?"

"Oh." Kurotan thought for a moment, and then shrugged, giggling. "This is the cleanest breakup I've ever gone through."

"Could you really call it a break up?" Motoko asked dryly.

She giggled again. "I guess not. Say, do you have anyone else? Our relationship was totally open, but I'm always curious."

"Not exactly," Motoko said, taking a sip of coffee, "he'd never work out."

"Oo! " Kurotan squealed in delight, "_He_?"

"I play both sides of the fence, Kurotan, you know that."

"Oh sure, but it's still weird to think about! Especially since I'm so stuck on the one side-," she grinned, eyes flicking to a pair of women who had sat down in the booth next to their table. "So what's wrong with him? Too dominate? I'd think that'd nice – competition can be fun you know." She grinned cheekily.

"No, nothing like that," Motoko said after a chuckle. "It's just better if I leave it at 'it won't work.'"

Suddenly, Kurotan began to laugh. "You work with him! That has to be it!" She shook her head as Motoko gave her a light glare. "All right, I won't tease. But 'it won't work' is a pretty lame excuse if you ask me."

Motoko snorted, a small part of her agreeing and the rest telling it to shut the hell up. "Yeah, well, it'll do."

"For now."

Motoko gave her friend another glare, and she alughed. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about old times while sharing tips and secrets, and parted that evening as friends.

* * *

A month later, Kurotan stepped into her empty apartment to give up the key. She collected the newspapers from her box, shuffling through them to see if anything interesting had happened in Nihama while her rent was running out.

Her hands paused on a picture of a bombed out building, with the headline 'TERRORIST SUPPRESENT GROUP TURNS ON GOVERNMENT'. Curiosity piqued, she scanned the article, and her mouth went dry.

'_All members of Public Security Section Nine have now been apprehended or killed; a triumph for the privacy and safety of our nation.'_

She turned to the next page, with a series of photos and captions on it, dropping the other papers to scatter on the floor.

"Motoko," she whispered, finding the woman's picture and a small caption '_Killed on the morning of March 23rd. Threat status: Zero.'

* * *

_

**Ok. So it's hardly little. And it's sad... but I loved it.  
**


	23. Digital Rose

**Gees, I feel like I'm spamming my own fic tonight! Oh well, blame the 3rd OST. I love this one…**

She didn't love him, per se.

That was, if love was being swept away, wanting to give yourself to a person forever – happily ever after – chocolates and flowers. She almost smiled at the thought of Batou, a dopey grin on his face, trying to hand her a bouquet of roses.

That grin was there, though, when he handed her a disk of info, pulled from one of their suspects. "All decoded," he said proudly, "they didn't stand a chance against me."

She shook her head, amused. "Don't get cocky," she warned.

"Who? Me?" He asked innocently, and waved as he sauntered to the break room.

As she sat down at the computers and loaded the disk, it occurred to her that he would never even consider getting her something traditionally romantic. He had always treated her with reality and respect. He always managed to keep up with her; did his work fast as he could, as well as he could. Like this info, intricate as a flower's bloom.

She smiled; maybe he couldn't get her growing flowers, but he could give her a digital rose.


	24. Holes

**This goes to Byrnstar, who mentioned something about all the holes Batou and the Major had between them. **

"Well, Togusa, looks like they put a nice hole in you."

Togusa looked up from his hospital bed to find Batou in the doorway, holding a stack of papers in one hand and a bouquet in the other.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, and raised an eyebrow, "Big Guy, you didn't really bring me flowers, did you?"

"Well sure I did you lug," Batou answered, and grinned when Togusa gave him a vaguely disgusted look, "Don't look so taken – the chief handed me ten bucks and said to get something for you."

"Gee, what a nice thought," Togusa muttered as Batou tossed them gently on the bed, making sure not to brush his wound. He looked over as Batou set the hefty pile of papers by his bed. "What are those?"

"Didn't think being shot would excuse you from work, did you? Papers from the Major, she said since you're the main guy on this case, you need to look through these." He held up the first sheet, "Aw, look, she even typed up your orders special."

"Charming. Never a dull moment in this job, is there?"

"Course not," Batou said, slumping into one of the chairs along the wall. It creaked uncomfortably, but held his weight; only just big enough for the cyborg's large frame. "So, how ya feeling?"

"Besides having a piece of my chest missing, fine I guess," the natural man said, glancing over the sheet. "I don't suppose you or the major ever have this kind of problem though."

He was surprised when Batou began to laugh heartily. "Are you kidding?" the man asked, "At least when you get beat up, you still get to keep the body you had before someone took an interest in messing with you; we've got to swap the whole damn thing." He shook his head, grunting, "it's a pain in the ass."

Togusa sighed, setting down the sheet, and winced as his arm came down wrong and pulled at his chest. "Yeah, sure, and this isn't?"

Batou chuckled. "You'll be on your feet in no time." He sat back, looking up at the bland ceiling. "Last time I had to have a body swap was about three months before you came on; I had to jump on a grenade so Pazu and Saito could get out of the vicinity." He shook his head, "Took out both arms and I still had to get out of the place."

"Geesh," Togusa said, both eyebrows raised, "What about the Major?"

"Same mission – did almost the same thing, except it was for Borma who was diffusing an even bigger bomb at the time, and she only lost one arm." He huffed, "those guys were obnoxious. They only had a few grenades, but they placed 'em so close and so well timed that there wasn't shit we could do about it."

Togusa let his head fall back on the pillow, groaning. "Nice story, Batou, now I'm really glad I joined Section Nine."

Batou snorted, popping open a can of beer and taking a swig.

**As always, thank you for the reviews and for reading (jiminy crickets, 5k!)**


	25. Why

**This one like, broke my heart to write, cause i knew it couldn't have been pretty and there must have been all sorts of mixed messages. :sigh: Changed slightly from original cause Motoko is more the thinking type (though not very many saw the original).**

He stood on the other side of the room, stunned. "You're…alive?"

Unashamed, she nodded. "I stayed in the net for awhile, did some diving around until I found my old prosthetic body." She didn't mention who had set it up; he could figure that out for himself later.

Still in shock, he stared unabashed. He knew, without a moment's doubt, that it was her and not some puppet. She exuded an aura, a power that was tangible. "Why…"

"No one could know," she said abruptly, cutting off his question, "besides, if I had contacted you, they would have tracked me and then killed you." She didn't mention how hard it had been for the first month, watching him die, little by little, because she wasn't there.

"I've been out of there for three weeks!" he said angrily, "and their flimsy version of monitoring stopped two weeks ago. Even so, it's not like I haven't acted before!" He paused, taking a breath. "You didn't even warn me that it might have happened."

She shook her head. "I didn't know."

"You didn't even try to duck."

"If they were going to let us off, they had to think I was dead."

"There are other ways to fake a death."

"Like getting out of the country?"

He stopped, hands clenching into fists as he finally understood. So she had always been planning on something like this. It was easier to fake one's death out of the country then in it. He hadn't thought of it that way, and now that he had, he wished he hadn't. "Yeah… Yeah." Suddenly, he couldn't stand to be in the room with her, something in him aching like an old, festering wound. Without a word, he turned and got out, lips pressed into a hard line.

Motoko watched him go, knowing that he was fully unaware of the twin ache that she bore, and also knowing that she couldn't tell him how close she had been to bugging out with him and never looking back. She looked down at her wrist, the watch that he had nearly died to get back to her glittering. _I told you I was alive,_ she thought, _why didn't you listen?_

**We all knew she was alive because of the watch. Obviously, Batou missed the message, and Motoko didn't correct him.**


	26. History

**This drabble brought to you courtesy of SxStrngSamurai13, and my rambling tendancies. Seriously, this wasn't supposed to be so long... it just kept _going. _Well, anyway, there might be some branching off of this one later, but we shall see. **

His eyes had been brown, once. A deep, rich brown; one of his girlfriends had said they were the kindest eyes she'd ever seen. Most girls seemed to like them.

His hair, also, had once been brown – mahogany colored. It had usually been just long enough to flop into his eyes, most girls had liked that, too.

He'd entered the army at eighteen out of a sense of wanting to do something right, helplessness being one of his greatest fears. He liked to think he'd beaten that fear, and for the most part, he had. He rose in the ranks, until someone mentioned the Rangers. As soon as he had heard the word, he'd known that he was meant to join.

And so he had. It required a minimum sixty percent cyberization – including a special eye implant that allowed them to switch between Normal light, Night Vision, UV, Infa-red, code, and even auditory sight. The first time he _saw _sound, he instantly discarded any feelings of grief for his natural eyes – they had been donated to a girl in Fukuoka and were serving their purpose on a body that deserved them. His heart and lungs were also off serving higher purposes. When in training, he sometimes smirked as he thought about how – piecemeal – he could serve several higher purposes, rather than just one.

With hard work, training had gone by quickly. They weren't deployed until his twenty-second birthday. A hell of a present, his commander said, and he had just smirked.

Then came the war. He hadn't expected anything less than what he had gotten, it wasn't as if human desperation and hatred was new to him. However, even knowing how bad it would be, he would never be the same. Death; of his comrades, his enemies, people innocent and guilty; hung around them all like a cloud. And even though he was in one of the sections most deeply entrenched in the war – he was still helpless on occasion.

He had come out of the fourth world war largely unharmed in body but scarred in spirit. The rangers were his life now, he knew it, they knew it, and nothing could change it. He didn't really want to – knowing that he could do more from there than anywhere else. Tired of having to worry about his abdomen when doing close range fighting, and knowing that his brain was almost fully cyberized in any case, he had signed the papers with the government to go full cyborg. It was bigger than his old body, and almost white blonde. He didn't mind – except for the first week when he bumped into things constantly – unused to his slightly larger size.

But all in all, he had never really regretted the choice.

Hard on the heels of the last great war they had been called to the Mexican desert. There, a strange coincidence segwayed what would have been the fairly straight line of the rest of his life. The American Empire, mistrustful of the nations helping them to curb the drug cartels, spilt them all into groups led by an American commander.

In that group, with it's confused English troops and American gonzos, the Major had made her first impression by deftly whipping a unit falling apart back into shape and ordering him to cover as she dashed into an abandoned hospital.

It wasn't until she came out of the rain with a wounded sniper _and _kept the remaining men off of the now one-eyed man, despite the fact that he had killed two of their men, that Batou finally understood what Ishikawa had meant by 'Female Guerilla'.

From there, his life had been intrinsically tied to Motoko Kusinagi, even before he grudgingly admitted to himself that he loved her, before she had called him out of the blue and said that she wanted him as a second in command for field duties or she wasn't going to take this Aramaki man's offer of building a combat unit. Somehow, they would end up on the same battlefield, tracking the same group of guerillas, she would be picking from the same group of trainees for the the army as the Rangers, always something. Maybe unconsciously, he had always involved himself in situations she might be in, hoping to study her again, but that didn't occur to him until section nine had been up and running for a year.

Now they had been present for a year, taken apart, reinstated, and narrowly diverted at least one international disaster. As he flexed his hand idly, he wondered how the girl from Fukuoka was doing – she'd be about eighteen now. If he could remember his given name, he could check up on her and those eyes that most girls had melted for in his teens… but why bother? They were gone, and he didn't really miss them. After all, Motoko Kusinagi was decidedly not 'most girls'.

**Note: I'm pretty sure that Batou was given a choice about his full cyberization. Motoko and Kuze both suffered from it partially because they were pretty much not given a choice (ok, Kuze was, but it wasn't, really.) (How many times can i use the word pretty? I feel pretty, oh so pretty...)  
**

**Batou's age is up in the air as far as I know, so the times are guessed. I suppose he could have been recruited, but meh.**

**Yes, I have a fairy pointful view of what Batou looked like fully human. I was creating an original character who I wanted to be Batou but totally not, so I just said 'ok. what'd he look like before switching over?' **

**The timing might be a titch messed up because I didn't feel like going to Wikipedia and looking at their timeline again (yes, they have one, yes, I know this...) **

**Oy vey. ** **anyway, back to your regularly scheduled lives, thanks for stopping by!**


	27. I'll Never Tell

**Another long one for ya'll! This is such an interesting time to work with, cause the characterizations are totally different… anyway.**

The rain was still falling. In proper order for a soldier, they had laid out the two dead men; the American and English commander grim faced and looking somewhat humiliated. Batou couldn't blame them; after all, they'd completely lost control, only to have it regained by a Japanese _woman_.

Frankly, he was a little mystified himself. Where was she, anyway? It had been nearly forty-five minutes since she had run into the hospital, and he knew from the bottom of his circuits that there was no way she had been killed. He glanced at Ishikawa, who shrugged, looking fairly unconcerned.

"What the fuck?" the American commander suddenly exclaimed, surging to his feet. The rest of the unit followed suit, most of the echoing the sentiment.

'The Major' had finally emerged from the ruins and fog, face set in a frown and two guns slung over her back. Beside her was a young man, head shaved, tall but slouching. As they drew nearer, it became apparent what had taken so long. The right side of his face was slathered in blood, and his right eye was covered over with a patch Batou recognized from their medical kits.

They were ten feet away when the commander suddenly advanced on them, growling. "What the hell were you-," he swung his rifle butt up to strike the man in the head when the Major stepped in front of him, catching the rifle with her bare hand.

"Don't touch him," she said, "he's mine."

"My ass he's yours! That bastard killed two men just from this unit!"

Batou almost stepped back from the look in the woman's eyes. As it was, her contempt did force the leader back a step – albeit a small one. "And your ineptness in sniper combat was the root cause," she said directly, not moving an inch from her position beneath the rifle. "He has agreed to join the team; and will be working under me from now on."

He almost fancied that a small electrical spark ran between the two before the American relaxed his rifle and turned away, growling. "Fine," he said, "But he's your responsibility." As if to gloss over his obvious defeat, he quickly gathered his things. "All right, move out! We're going back to base to regroup and plan further."

The night was tense and uncomfortable for all of them. Most of the group fell asleep instantly though, exhausted by the excitement of the day. Batou, however, was too busy studying the new man and the Major under the practiced pretense of sleep. The sniper had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had stopped; obviously in great pain but saying nothing about it. Batou couldn't blame the man; any complaint would have no doubt been met with nothing short of pure venom.

The major sat over the man like a hawk, elbows rested on her knees as she leaned forward. He could tell she was protecting him from a vengeful team member, if anyone dared contest her claim on the prisoner. Her gaze never moved from the small fire they had started, but there was the distinct feeling that she knew exactly what was going on around her. Suddenly, her eyes flicked up and met his.

"Don't even think about it," she said.

He shifted, surprised at being caught in his observation. Previously, no one had ever called him on his sleeping act - unable to tell because of his eyes. "I wasn't," he replied, "he had to do what he had to do."

Her head jerked in acknowledgement and her eyes returned to the fire. For a minute, Batou simply allowed himself to be surprised, and then he couldn't stand it anymore. "How did you know?"

She glanced up, glowering slightly. It seemed to him a long time before she finally said, "You're breathing pattern and movement mimics sleep, but the ultrasonic waves from your cyberbrain don't differ enough from normal wakefulness to indicate that you are truly asleep."

He nodded. It was the only thing he couldn't change without actually going to sleep or installing a sonic filter. "No one's caught me since I figured out how to superimpose sleeping breathing patterns on my waking ones," he said.

"Not surprising," she replied, "I'll be sure not to tell the others."

He snorted in slight amusement and instead of thanking her, leaned back against a boulder and allowed himself to get some shut eye.

**Doot da doo. Think of this as your TGIF present.**


	28. Gabu

To her neighbors, Motoko was a rich widow; stoic but noble. She was only whispered about in the area, known as 'that woman' or 'her'. When she had first moved in, a few of the other woman in the neighborhood (if you could call it that – there were acres and acres between their properties) had stopped by, heard her clipped story and seen her somewhat intimidating nature… then backed off immediately. Obviously, she was not going to be a member of their Tuesday night bridge and bitch club.

To his neighbors, Batou was the token security guard; completely dedicated to his job to the point of being unable to mention his place of employment. He lived in the downtown area of nice apartments and not-so-nice neighborhoods. All his neighbors really knew about him was that he had a job, a housekeeper, and a dog. The dog was fairly quiet, so they didn't mind her, and the few children that lived in the old complex adored the basset hound as only children could.

As far as his neighbors knew, Togusa was still happily in the police force, though sometimes it seemed to them that he was out later and left earlier. Some of the women whispered that perhaps he was having an affair – mentioning the woman that had stopped by once, over a year ago. His wife knew that that had been Motoko when she came to recruit, and it broke her heart to play stupid – but when she saw him on the news one day, standing behind Prime Minister Kayabuki as a body guard, she swelled with pride.

Bormer and Ishikawa shared a small flat, and they were rarely at it enough for anyone to notice them. When they moved in, they said they were high school buddies providing tech support for the government. It was close enough to the truth.

Pazu's neighbors never asked about his job or his life. That was the way mafia hang outs worked – the less you knew about a person and the less you told them, the better. His life was forfeit if they ever discovered his true occupation, but it never bothered him.

Saito bounced around. Occasionally he crashed at an old girlfriend's, sometimes with a war buddy. Sometimes he just went to a hotel for the hell of it. It wasn't that he couldn't afford a place, he just still had an inability to settle down. He couldn't say his occupation was helping to cure that ability, but in reality, it didn't bother him. All he really needed was a couple changes of clothes to tote around and a semi-warm space to crash in.

It was interesting, Aramaki thought, the lives that his team led. They were truly double agents. Even he never told the whole truth when asked about his career. It never seemed safe. That was why they all kept their masks – their protection against the world – on. He wondered if, sometimes, it was a protection against themselves as well.

**Yay, evolving drabbles. Funfun.**


	29. Neighbors

**Yay! Drabbles!**

Normally, they didn't see each other on their days off. So he was surprised when, on an afternoon walk with Gabu, he recognized the major's form standing on the corner in the local park, arms crossed and glowering at a taxi cab. It seemed to be having functional difficulties, smoke pouring from the hood as the AI driver sputtered and began to fritz itself.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked, coming up behind her and grinning boyishly.

She gave him a raised eyebrow. They weren't supposed to know each other in public- it could lead anyone tracking section nine to other members. "How do I know you're not a stalker?" she asked.

"Guess you'll just have to take my word on it. I can give you a lift, if you like."

"You're too kind."

"My pleasure."

"I'm sure." She looked at the cab and sighed, flipping the robot a coin. "All right, let's go."

"May I take your groceries?"

She gave him a warning look, saw the playful arch of his brow and smirked. Reaching into the cab's backseat, she grabbed a bag and placed it on his free hand without comment. He raised an eyebrow as he hefted it to rest against his chest.

_A little off-the-clock reconnaissance, major? _His fingers gave the bag a squeeze, feeling smooth metal and the familiar shape of a hard drive under the cheap paper. _No wonder you were way down here. _

"Which way?" she asked out loud in response, and he nodded down the street. As they began to stroll, Gabriel in tow, she said, _Since when do you have a dog?_

"Oh, Miss, I'm sorry; I'd like you to meet the most important woman in my life," Batou said, and nodded down to the basset hound. "Her name is Gabriel, and I've had her for two years." As Gabriel heard her name, she looked up to the two of them, soulful eyes wide open and tongue lolling in the slight afternoon heat.

"Pleased, I'm sure," Motoko said dryly, "nice to see a man that has his priorities straight."

"Well, she's actually tied for first," Batou replied airily. She gave him a sharp glance, and he shrugged it off. "In any case, I'm Nigimi. Nigimi Yoto. I'd bow, but…" _You want a drink before you go?_

She waved it off. "Hitomi. Sasuke Hitomi. Don't worry about it." _Why not? I've been down here the whole day._

**Lithiumflower56 can take the blame for the last bit. The drabble was written for the line about Gabriel though . It's a trip OOC, but ah well, I can pin it on them having to use different personas or something… yeah, that's it!**


	30. Oh the Horror

**This is a silly/indulgence drabble. Pay it little mind… I'm just fscking with cannon in a fairly major way (so not my line… but I forgot whose!)**

"So… where are we headed again?"

"It's called 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'." Batou threw over his shoulder as they walked along a dumpy New Tokyo street, "It's a throw back to 20th century America – still has a cult following."

Togusa glanced around at the people they were walking towards, dressed flamboyantly in black thigh high boots and more fishnet than he'd even seen actually on a person. "So I see," he muttered, trying his best not to stare at the Major and Batou; both dressed to fit in with the others. It was no wonder they were in a top government agency – despite the fact that he knew they'd never been to anything like this, they were both perfectly at ease, while he was desperately resisting the urge to rub his eyes free of the eyeliner they had insisted he wear. "And why are we here?"

"Suspects may be hacking through an infa-red camera hidden in the screen and using cyberbrain power for their operations."

"Uh…" Togusa dodged a tall skinny boy with curly hair and a black painted fingernails, wearing a fake corset and fishnets… Togusa uncomfortably noted heels and blue eye shadow, as well as a small crop hanging from his hip. "How are we going to be able to tell?"

"Just turn on different visuals when we get in there," Batou replied off handedly.

"Oh…" Togusa paused, "Wait, then why are all three of us here?"

"The major and I both have infa red vision. If we need to apprehend someone, there'll need to be more than one."

"But then why am I here?" the natural man persisted, "You two could handle it!"

"Well," Batou said with a grin as he waved over a tall woman carrying an oddly intimidating tube of lipstick, "you're our cover."

"Got a virgin?" the woman asked, cocking a hip as she eyed Batou and Motoko up.

"Completely," Motoko said, smirking as the woman grinned mischiviously and stepped forward. When she stepped back, there was a large, bright red 'V' on Togusa's head.

"Just make sure to herd him forward before the show with all the other ickle virgins," she said with a grin, and winked at Batou. "Nice costumes."

Batou gave her a nod, and then turned to Togusa, face completely innocent in the face of the man's flabbergasted expression. "Yes?"

"What am I getting into?" the man asked.

Motoko and Batou glanced at each other and smirked. "Don't worry, Togusa," the Major said, drawing out their payment from her corset-top, "it's just a story about a night out."

"It was a night in," Batou replied without missing a beat, chuckling.

Togusa stuck his hands in his pockets, thinking that this was not at all soothing.

**There is goes. Sorry. I just got the RHPS soundtrack… and I had to pick on Togusa...**


	31. Plans

**Valentines day drabble! Tachikoma mischievousness abounds!**

"Mr. Batou! Wait up!"

Batou stopped, waiting for the Tachikoma to catch up with him before he continued on, face slightly perplexed. "What's up?" he asked, "you're oil was changed a few days ago, there haven't really been any missions…"

"No, no, it's nothing like that! I was just wondering if you could tell me about this Valentines day… we're all kinda confused…"

Batou glanced at the ceiling of the hallway as if begging it for patience. "This again? Can't you guys find some holiday history site on the net or something? I already explain Christmas till I was blue in the face…"

The Tachikoma stopped abruptly, giving Batou a quizzical tilt of the frame. "I never noticed a change in your coloring, Mr. Batou, and besides, doesn't your skin only have the eighteen squared sensitivity and thermoptic camoflouge? I'd think color adaptation would be a bit mu-,"

"It's an expression," Batou interrupted as they reached the hanger. "All right, what do you want to know?"

"Oo! He's going to tell us!" one of the other think tanks chirped, and the entire group gathered around.

Batou sighed. "All right; well, basically, Valentines day is all about romance and couples showing their…" he paused, looking for the right word.

"Affection?" one Tachikoma filled in hopefully, and was immediately shushed.

"Yeah, that's it," Batou said. He sat back. "Anyway, in the states and I think Europe both the man and the woman give little gifts to each other, though here in Japan it's usually the woman who gives the gifts on Valentines day, and the man reciprocates a month later."

There was a pause. An eye turret whirred, indicating a remote access. "I still don't get it!"

As if on cue, the hanger doors slipped open, and the Major walked in, raising an eyebrow when she saw the gathering.

"Oh! Major!" Batou's Tachikoma stepped forward, waving at Motoko. "Maybe you could help!"

The major didn't say anything, simply left her face blank, indicating for the Tachikoma to go on as she came on an encrypted comlink to Batou. _What is going on?_

_Got me, _Batou replied as the Tachikoma explained about his comrade's apparent difficulty in grasping the situation, _guess you could just play along?_

"And so maybe," the Tachikoma was saying, seemingly unaware of the separate conversation, "if you just showed it what people do on Valentines day?"

There was an extremely pregnant pause. _Play along? _Motoko said sardonically.

_I promise to reciprocate on White day, _Batou replied playfully.

_You do that anyway. _

He grinned, she sighed, and the Tachikomas waited impatiently. _This is not in my best interests, _she said, and dug into the pocket of her leather jacket, extracting a small streamline box and walking forward. He knew it was a pocketknife, she had mentioned she would get him one after an old one was lost.

_It's not like you didn't have a gift anyway, _he said, standing as she came forward. With little ceremony, she held out the box. "Happy Valentine's day, Batou."

He took it from her, smiling at her less-than-cheerful face and slight glare into his eyes as he said, "Thanks. I'll keep it close."

_After this, you'd better._ She said somewhat threateningly in return, turning away.

"Wait! Where're you going, Major? Aren't you supposed to kiss him or something?"

Another almighty pause. Motoko stopped mid-step, head twitching. Batou couldn't help but play that scenario out in his mind, but stopped when his logic kicked in – just like it always did. He forced a laugh. "You guys watching soap operas again? Gees, the things you pick up."

The moment ground back into gear, and Motoko continued to walk. With a wave, Batou caught up to her, and they walked out of the hanger.

For a moment, the Tachikomas were silent. Then they broke out into collective cheers. "Did you see that!" One crowed, "she already had a gift for him!"

"Oh what are you talking about?" another said, "She had five more in her pocket almost exactly like it."

"Yeah, but did you see the way she looked into his prosthetic eyes?" one said, "I swear I saw that on 'Natural.Cyborg Love' once!"

"You watch too much TV," the practical one shot back, "you know they decided in 2015 that it actually lowered IQ points."

"What are you talking about! We don't have IQ points!"

"Well, it was just a point."

"But not a valid one!"

"Comrades!" Batou's Tachikoma stepped in, waving it's arms, "We should not be arguing, we should be celebrating! The Major gave Batou a valentines day gift, and we initiated non work related conversation! The mission was a success!"

There was a collective cheer, and simultaneous chatter about human behavior compared to the behavior of Section nine, and speculation about the encrypted messages which none of them had seen fit to decode at the time of transfer.

**Natural.Cyborg Love is just a random name I cooked up for a futuristic type soap. Lol… it sounds kind of amusing. That said… Aw! Silly little Tachikomas!**


	32. Bridge Building

**This one is wonky beyond the usual, and I pick on Togusa. Again. Can you tell I had fun with symbolism?**

He was having strange dreams. At first, Togusa thought that it was the cyborg food he'd eaten that day. But they persisted, every night for three weeks. A woman with large white wings, face more perfect that Aphrodite stepped onto the backs of a river from the sky. From the opposite side a man walked from the forest, his eyes gouged out but in no pain. In their hands, they held timber and rope; and they began to make a bridge.

He didn't know them. Familiar, perhaps, but by the fourth night he couldn't remember whether it was because he had seen them so often in dreams or because he knew them in real life. He wanted to help them, but in the dreams he was intangible and they did not even appear to be aware of his presence. Each night they built the bridge… but when they tried to lay the last boards into their places a flood came and swept it all away. And the next night, battered and bedraggled, they would begin again.

Then, one night, they paused in their building and looked at each other. They did not speak; that he could hear. But he felt something happen, and when they both laid down their materials and knelt, eyes locked, on either side he understood. They could not be together by decree of fate. And so, close enough to just barely brush hands if they reached across the water, they would wait.

**PS- a nod to Ironical Jester for Motoko's symbol as an angel. **


	33. Leap of Faith

Teetering on the edge were not the right words for it – but if they had been any other two people, that's what it would have been. For them, though, it was more like standing. Standing on a tall building at the point where the stone dropped sheer, hands barely touching, looking pointedly away from each other but always aware of their partner's every move – every twitch and breath.

To one side was the building. If they turned to it, they could walk away, any way they chose. Perhaps they would return to the edge and stand again, solid and firm, contemplating what the fall would be like, whether the bottom would be hard, whether it would yield. Would they land on their feet, hands intertwined? Or would they drift away in the plummet? Would they lose their nerve at the last moment, and, turning, grab a hold of the side to watch the other fall without them; the sound of a shattering heart echoing in the stillness? Would they ever land at all?

If she took the jump, he would follow… if he took the jump, would she? It didn't matter. They could not take the jump as two separate entities. It was a leap of faith that could only be taken as one.

**and 100 reviews! You folks are absolutely nutters! and I adore you for it - thanks so much for reviewing!**


	34. Take Cues from Zeus

**snort I had _way _too much fun with this.**

"Well major, you've done it again. Not only are you the top officer of an elite crime stopping unit, but you can also shake-,"

A glare that would make Zeus think twice before saying anything. Without a hitch though, Batou continued.

"-down a gang meeting in a tiny-,"

"Batou…"

"run down joint with nothing but -,"

"…"

"Your own two hands and some…back up." He glanced at her over his shoulder, grinning ear to ear.

In return, he glared. "I'm finding a female terrorist group that has its basis out of Chipn'dales," she muttered.

"Aw, don't be so sore major. After all, you did the world a … service." He barely kept down a snort.

"I'm _not _sore," she muttered, reminding herself to tell the Tachikomas to ask about the time a grocery AI unit had taken a liking to him, "but you will be if I shove that pole up your…"

"Ah ah ah major; you don't know where that thing's been." Another grin lit his face; "Oh wait, you do!"

Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find own fist in his face at the next stoplight.

**If you don't get it… well… I'll tell you that the things he was going to say before being cut off were 'your ass', 'a scrap of cloth', and 'well placed accessories'.**

**giggle It's slightly OOC, but oh so fun to contemplate.**


End file.
